Our Little Secret
by MyHavenisBooks
Summary: Clary is a hardworking woman who doesn't have time for guys. When her older brother is getting married, she has to return to her hometown and face her family's probing of her nonexistent love life. That's where professional date, Jace Wayland comes in. He's the perfect guy; charming, smart, gorgeous, but can they fool her family and can Clary fool her heart. Full summary inside! AU
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Hey, so I guess I needed a little vacation from my other stories. I have the writing bug, but I'm not sure where to take them. They are definitely not finished, but they will be on a short break at least until the holidays. Think of it as your holiday gifts! I hope you guys like this one as much as the others.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the mortal Instruments characters, but I do own my own words. The plot will be loosely based on the plot of the movie "The Wedding Date"

 **Summary** : Clary is a hard-working, independent woman that doesn't need a man. She's content with working long hours, holidays, even on days of family events. She gets away with it until one event seems to be utterly inescapable, her older brother's wedding. As the forced maid of honor, her attendance is required in her sleepy farm hometown in Tennessee with her big, crazy family. Not sure if she can survive the constant poking into her nonexistent love life, she enlists a man she believes to be a 'date' to fool her family into thinking she is on the road to marriage herself. The only problem, the man is charming as they come, but is this just another bill to emotionally damaged Clary.

Narrator:

Her fingers were raw and covered in the bright pastels that were strewn over her desk. Her hair was askew and there were smudges of color on her cheeks where pastel had gone rouge from the nearly completed project.

She smiled down at the poster sized paper in satisfaction and held it up in front of her. The yellow light from her studio as well as the breaking dawn light illuminated her latest piece of art that would hopefully be printed on hard and soft covers of millions of books.

Twenty-four year old Clary Fray was an ex-law student, cover artist for some of the biggest projects around the world. From a young age, she had showed insurmountable levels of intelligence and had skipped majority of middle school and freshman year. She was always the youngest as well as smartest pupil in her classes, but she never minded. She was fine if she had her art and her music, and had been lucky enough to make a few friends she had been able to keep even into adulthood.

Her father had been the best lawyer in their town, maybe even the state, and with a daughter as smart as his own, it was only expected for her to do great things as well. In her town, that meant marry a good guy and have good kids. Not get a job or go to college. Lie ended for women the day they graduated high school. She had given it a hard try, a three year long one to be exact. She dated sweet boys, smart boys, even the rebels. Even those only got as rebellious as taking their family tractor out without permission.

After years of misery, young Clarissa applied to Yale for art in secret. Within the month, she had gotten her acceptance letter. Her parents were heartbroken that she wanted to leave, but they were more worried of losing their relationship with their only daughter, so they let her go and always invited her back for long weekends and holidays, not that she ever went. She was too busy to go back. After graduation, she had moved to New York to do what she did best, make art. And she was successful. Soon, her family and the rest of the country knew her as Clary Fray the newest up and coming artist, who designed book covers.

Looking at the clock now, she saw it was already four-thirty in the morning and she had stayed up all night to meet her deadline. She sighed in exhaustion before collapsing onto her mess of art tools, after carefully setting down her work.

 **Clary**

I was startled awake by the insistent ringing of my cellphone. Seeing the caller I.D, I immediately answer.

"Hello little sister," the velvety voice coos and I can see the dancing green eyes and shining white hair as my older brother's voice reaches my ears.

"Hello big brother," I reply yawing heartily.

"Another late night?" he asks, chuckling.

"Of course," I reply, holding the phone with my shoulder as I carefully roll the design and slide it into the transport cylinder. The publisher should be by later to pick it up.

"Making that money!" he sings, laughing and I smile," anyways, I was just heading into work and I have a bit of news,"

"Ohhh! Did you get a puppy? I want one, but I don't have the time, I can just come by and see yours!" I say excitedly, thinking of a fuzz ball rolling around Jon's living room.

"ha, no. I did get something though," he says, slightly nervous.

"What?"

"A fiancé," he murmurs. I freeze. When did Jon even get a girlfriend?

"Excuse me," I say accusingly, glaring at the wall.

"Oh come one, don't give me the phone death eyes," he sighs, "if you cared to come home every once in a while, you would have met her already. Mom loves her, Grandma loves her, even aunt Maryse loves her!" he exclaims. I feel anger curl my gut at the fact that everyone seems to find this girl to be wonderful, at least enough to marry their golden boy, and yet I've never heard of her.

"Oh, so you couldn't have mentioned her over our nightly phone calls," I say bitterly. Then his first words finally sink into my skin like stinging ice, freezing my veins, "and it's not my fault that I have to claw tooth and nail for Dad's approval when you, the college dropout who runs a repair shop lives in his good graces," I say, feeling the self-loathing appear as soon as the words come out.

"At least I stayed. The family hasn't seen you in over two years, rarely hear from you," he replies, going on defense.

"I had to do something! I'm sorry I didn't want to end my life before it even began! I'm sorry I didn't want to settle for a boy that I knew since birth and get pregnant before my 21st birthday!" I say, voice rising with each word. If anyone had been proud and supportive, it would have been Jon. He just wanted his little sister to be happy, and he was secretly happy she was not attracted to the bone heads of their high school.

"You know what, you better be here within the month. The wedding is going to be small, but it's happening. If you aren't here, happy in a dress, you can just lose my number. I don't want us small town folk holding you back," he says and I know I screwed up.

"Jon," I say softly, "I'll be there in two weeks, I promise,"

"I love you Clary, please don't break this promise," before I can answer, he hangs up. I put down my phone and whisper, "I won't.

 **Jace**

I was dressed in my finest suit, tie straight and hair slicked back. I kept a smile on my face, despite the ghastly woman on my arm, just thinking of how my rate was a five hundred an hour.

She introduced me to her work friends, relishing in the way the other woman's eyes lingered on my face and my body, before looking at her with envious glances, barely concealed behind their painted smiles.

To be honest, I'm not quite sure how I got looped into this business, but here I am, with a beautiful, yet horrid woman who will pay me to pretend to be her boyfriend whom she will dramatically break up with at the end of the night, gaining favor with the other woman.

In technical terms, I'm a date. That's it. I don't sleep with these women or end up with them at the end. I take them out for whatever reason they require, act my charming self then get payed.

There's a bunch of us. The sweet ones you bring to your hometown for Grandma Ruth's birthday, the heartthrob you bring to your frenemies wedding, the rebel you bring around once in a while to make your crush jealous, and then there's me. The others are like a breed of date, but I'm my own kind. I'm the charmer, the big guns, the one that can be everything in one golden wrapped package.

One day I had been walking around campus, a fresh-faced literature major, dead set on writing a novel and getting published, childish dreams. A sparkly man with green eyes had approached me and his exact words were.

"You're beautiful, I'm sure women would pay for a date," I had bene thoroughly creeped out. I had never been called beautiful in my life. Hot, Sexy, even angelic, but never beautiful and I was intrigued.

He had continued by saying that he was running a business that did just that, sold dates to woman in need. At the time he had only ten or so guys to sell off. Fascinated by the mysterious guy, I met with him for coffee. Magnus, as I later found his name to be, explained the business to me and enlisted me. Down on cash, and in desperate need to pay for next semester's courses of creative writing, I had agreed.

Within a few months, Magnus as well as the other guys had become my best friends and I had become the most sought after date. It was quite the arrogance shot to my originally mellow and conservative personality. Magnus had trained me in the arts of charm and chivalry as well as silent confidence. It only helped.

Now here I am a fresh graduate with a Lit major and nearly complete novel. Things were going splendid, not to mention I was being paid to be myself, and at least the version the women want. It never bothered me that I couldn't really date any one because of this. I was always so focused on my degree, but now, there was that inkling of want.

When it comes, I pushed it down and lock it back inside, where the rest of old Jace is and where he will probably stay until I stop being a date.

At the end of the night, I dropped the girl at home and in exchange she handed me a fat envelope with a kiss on the cheek. I walked back to my car, scrubbing the sticky red lips from my cheek when my phone buzzes.

 _Magnus- New Job, Hot Red Head_

That's all it took to peek my interest. I had never been a date for a red head, or anyone that Magnus deemed as more than 'okay' or 'not horrible' which was hard considering he was a flaming gay, which the team loved him for.

I typed back; _I'll meet you at the office._

This date just may be the fun I need.

 **Clary**

Realizing I would have to go home wasn't too bad. I loved my family and my hometown. What had me chewing my nails to the root was the idea of going in there alone. Not only going to the wedding alone, but enduring all the festivities alone. All my cousins were already married, probably pregnant or long past. All my old friends were in the same boat.

That's what also interests me about this girl. Where was she from if she isn't married off yet, or younger than 18. But my brother would never.

Swallowing hard, I scroll through my contacts, looking for a guy that would be good for this very big favor. All I find are cousins of mine, whom will already be there, and guys from work which I find 100% off limits. Then I resort to the one number that was collecting dust in my contact list,

I don't know why I had saved it, but I had. The whole business was just too intriguing. I remember the flamboyant man handing a dark purple card with silver writing stating "the Magnificent Date Service". I had been at a launch party when he had come up to me and handed me the card, I remember his silken voice saying offensive, yet true words.

"Let's be honest. You don't date. I know your type. Work, work, work, no play. Well miss Clary Fray, if you ever need a companion for one of your events, please, call," he had handed me the card saying it was his dating service for the dating challenged.

Now, desperate, I hit call. The line rings and rings and then is answered. The same voice from that night answers.

"Hello, are you calling for an appointment to pick you date?" he asks.

"Um, yes. I'm Clary Fray, we met-"I begin when he replies.

"Oh dear! I've been waiting for this day! I have the perfect date! I'll call him and I'll give him your number," then he hung up. I stare at the phone in shock. Then I slump on my couch. I guess I'm getting a date.


	2. Chapter 2

**Clary**

It had taken a day for Magnus to get back to me. I had been at a meeting when my phone began vibrating in my bag. I had frozen, hopping no one heard it and questioned its source, but to my luck, they were discussing layout for the latest book cover.

When the meeting ended about twenty minutes later, I quickly left and ripped my phone from its pocket. Scrolling through my messages, I saw three. One was my phone company saying my data was 75% used for this month, but the other two were exactly what I'd been hoping for.

 _1 New Message Magnus Bane_

 _1 New Message Unknown Number_

Despite my itching curiosity, I looked at Magnus's first.

 _Hello darling Miss Fray! You should be receiving a message from your date soon. I suggest you two meet to discuss any business. I hope to hear from you soon my dear. I have a feeling we'd be good friends_

I feel warm insides at Magnus's sentiment. I was never very good at friends, usually only talking to my brother and our cousins. Talking a deep breath, filling my contracting lungs, I open the last unread message.

 _Dear Miss Fray, Magnus has informed me you require a date. The reason is a mystery, for I only know your name. I'd like to meet you in person, soon, to get to know you as well as find out how an extraordinary woman as yourself doesn't have a doting boyfriend or at least a myriad of admirers. Though chivalry may be dead in many, I can assure it is not dead in thee._

I feel my cheeks heat and a goofy smile inch across my face. I don't even know this man's name, yet I know he'll be quite the charmer. I suppose that is the point of a date. Contemplating my words, I slowly compose my own message, sitting in my car in the lonely car park.

 _Meet me in Taki's diner on 111_ _th_ _street. I'll be wearing a green dress, though I suppose you already know what I look like._

I leave the message simple, not quite knowing what to say, but knowing I don't want to sound over eager. Then I realize I shouldn't be anyways. This is business. This man is trained in the art of finesse and making women swoon. He's like this with probably thousands of other women roaming the New York streets. I'm no different, and I will never be.

But that doesn't mean I can't enjoy the ride. With a smile, I drive over to Taki's. Even if he doesn't show, my stomach still needs to be nourished.

 **Jace**

I had head to Magnus's office, which doubled as his extraordinary penthouse. Behind all the glitter and shine, I truly think Magnus is a lonely soul. Who else would be fine with people constantly coming and going form his apartment, and more nights than not, housing wayward dates?

I head up and enter, using the key all the dates possess and find his sitting with a green face mask, petting Chairmen Meow as he watches The Duff, a gag gift from Simon last week.

"Why, aren't you eager? I've never seen you so gun-ho for a project before," he says simply, leaving his eyes on the television.

"I guess I was bored," I lie, "So, who is it?" I ask. You're never sure who you're going to get in here.

"Clarissa Fray, cover artist extraordinary, chummy chum with the biggest editor and publishers in the country," he says offhandedly, smirking at me. My jaw drops. How can the most beautiful, intelligent women of my generation not have a date? Then there's the fact that I am a starving writer, looking for my first best seller.

"You have to be joking," I say in awe.

"I am not," he says, pausing his movie and setting Chairmen down, "You're perfect for her, esthetically and mentally. She'd fiery, I just know it and she needs someone to keep her interested," he says.

"Magnus, it's just for a couple hours, not a lifetime," I say, confused. Magnus never really put his thoughts into the selection. He simply asked what the ladies wanted and selected a date to meet these ideas. How he's saying it makes it seem as if he'd decided to play matchmaker.

"I have a feeling this is for something big. I've tried convincing her countless times to use my service, but she always refuses, opting to go to events alone or with a colleague. This must be something important to her," he contemplates, as if realizing this now.

"Anyways, will you do it?" he asks, brightening, a mischievous glint in his green eyes.

"What's her number?" I ask, trying to remain stoic, even as my inside jump and bound.

 **Clary**

I'm just about to sink my teeth into a double cheeseburger with curly fries when a smooth cool voice that sends shivers down my spine halt my progress.

"I knew you'd just get better when I met you," it laughs as a figure comes into my line of sight. I take in the tousled golden curls and aviator sunglasses before I see the black leather jacket and fitted, V-neck t-shirt. He looks good, whoever he is.

The man takes the seat across from me in the booth and a waitress immediately comes over to take his order, to which he just says, "whatever she'd having" gesturing to my plate. When she leaves, he slowly tugs the sunglasses off the bridge of his nose, his curls shielding his eyes from my sight until he reveals them.

Two golden coins stare back at me, dancing with a golden flame I can only describe as boyish mischief. When his eyes go down, they rest on my full plate, hungry beyond belief.

Rolling my own, I slide my plate across the table to him, burger in hand, but it was still overflowing with fries. I only do so because I'm pretty sure I know who this guy is going to be, and I also intend to steal some of his.

"So," he says, chewing happily on my fries, "I would assume you are the infamous Clary Fray whom has requested a date, have you not?" he asks.

"I have," inside I'm shaking with embarrassment, but my cool, confident shell says it as if it's no big deal.

"Wonderful," he smiles, teeth glimmering white, but my eyes made for detail zone in on the endearing chip on his incisor, the gateway to his normal self, not the perfect mask I can tell he's worked so hard to craft. I'll let him wear it a little while longer, I decide.

"What's your name?" I ask. Seeing his confused face, I elaborate, "You know, the noise people make to get your attention,"

"Oh, well it's Jace Wayland. I had assumed Magnus would have told you by now," he replies, laughing slightly at my dig.

"Don't assume things Mr. Wayland," I smile at him as his own food arrives. He thanks the waitress and proceeds to take his burger and plop it on the plate that used to be mine and slide his plate full of fresh frenchies across to me. Good man.

"I guess we should talk about payment," I begin, not sure how far the chivalry will go, especially with a pretty-boy like him.

"Ah, don't assume things. I'd rather prefer sharing a nice lunch with my new client before getting into gritty business," he shutters at the word business before flashing a grin and digging into his burger, my own long gone.

I order a large milkshake and when the waitress comes back, she lays two straws on the table. I put one in and cast the other aside, which Jace scoops up and slowly, teasingly slips into the milky goodness, daring me to swat it away. With a shake of my head, I allow him to share with me as we make idle talk about our favorite colors and animals, not going beyond anything above elementary.

When we are both finished with our meals, Jace stands and I think he is going to leave. But then he walks around and sits right beside me on my side of the booth. I give a 'what do you think you're doing look'. He leans close and whispers in my ear,

"If we are going to talk, I doubt you'd want any wandering ears listening in," he looks pointedly at the tables in a rather close proximity to our own. I nod in thanks and agreement.

"Well, I guess all I've been wondering was how a beautiful, color loving woman as yourself hasn't ensnared a man of your own," he says, a curious and disbelieving glint to his eyes.

"I guess I've just been too busy with work to try," I whisper, feeling my cheeks tint pink. One of Jace's long, pianist fingers comes up to stroke my cheek, as if mesmerized.

"I love your blush," his voice is glazed, but he lightly shakes his head before saying, "But I doubt you'd have to try, just look at you. And with a single word you'd have half the male population on their knees," he says with conviction.

"Not in this life," I laugh, feeling my insides grow fuzzy and warm at his words.

"So, since we are in this life and let's pretend I agree with you, why do you need a date anyways? I doubt it's just for some random outing," he says.

"You'd be right. It's actually for my big brother's wedding," I tell him, afraid he may back out at the potential of meeting my family, but his face remains passive.

"If you don't want to, I understand. It would have to be for a few days, because it's going to be in my hometown, which is all the way in Tennessee," I begin rambling and growing more self-conscious for even going to Magnus in the first place. Jace's warm hands come up and cup my mouth, making my lips stall and any noises as well.

"I've always wanted to go to Tennessee," is all he says.

"Weawly?" I ask, voice muffled by his hand, coming out garbled.

"Yeah, I'll do it," he smiles, removing his hands from my face.

"Oh, thank you so much!" I exclaim, pulling him into a hug before I can think. I begin to pull away, but he tugs me back to him.

"How much will it be?" I ask, suddenly realizing how expensive this could get.

"Don't worry about it right now," he whispers, continuing to hug me back.

 **Jace**

I hold her close. I hold her tight and long. It's the best time of my life, her hair tickling my nose and her hands wound around my neck. We finally pull away when we hear the footsteps of the waitress approaching.

"Would you two like anything else?" she asks politely, clearing away our empty plates.

"Pie," Clary says wistfully, "Chocolate pie,"

"Two slices of chocolate pie, and two black coffees," I tell the girl, to which she smiles and leaves.

"How'd you know I'd like black coffee?" she asks.

"We're like a cult. We know our kind. And if I was wrong, I'd just have to drink it all myself, horrid," I reply. She laughs as my flat end tone before looking at me with soft green eyes.

"The wedding is in a month," she tells me, "If I can survive my family for the wedding, I may want to stay an extra day, but I seriously doubt it," she mutters.

"What's wrong with them?" I ask, wondering how someone as laid back and awesome as Clary can find anyone she doesn't like, especially her family.

"That's a story for another time," she says simply as our pie arrives.

I watch as she eats her pie like an excited little girl, sipping my own coffee. I end up drinking both our coffees and she eats both our pies.

"We complete each other," I say without thinking, instantly freezing at my words.

"I suppose we do," Clary smiles and clinks her fork to the rim of my mug. I sigh in relief at the crash we just averted.


	3. Chapter 3

**Clary**

I wake up to knocking at my door. Looking at my clock, I observe it says 12pm. I wasn't all that surprised considering I had spent all last night watching a Walking Dead Marathon with Jace before the new season starts.

I smile to myself as I make my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth. The persona at the door could wait or go away; I was not opening the door with morning breath. Anyways, Jace and I had been hanging out every moment of free time we had. I only had a few long term projects I still had months to finish and no real meetings. As far as I knew, Jace hadn't taken any other jobs either.

We had gone to dinner two days after our lunch and now, a week later, we had been to a movie, and he's been practically living on my couch watching Netflix. He claims it's all for the job, making sure it looks believable that we are together, but I can't imagine him having the time for every other assignment he takes on.

Finishing with my teeth, I found my hair to be in wild, untamed curls from my sloppy sleeping habits. Deciding if the person at the door was still there and of any importance to me, they wouldn't really care or mind. Looking through the peephole, I see a golden head leaning against the door, just to the right of the viewing area. I only knew one person with that perfect golden straw colored hair and confident stance.

I opened the door, side stepping the quickly falling Jace as his support is swung out from behind him. He grabs me on his way down, me falling onto his chest as he lands on my entryway rug on his back.

"Hi Jace," I say simply, setting my hands on his chest with my chin on top, trying to reign in the blush from my body perfectly aligned with his own.

"Hi Clary," he replies. He rolls over so he's on his stomach, myself under him, "I have arrived for my first lesson," he tells me.

"What lesson?" I inquire, pushing him off me so I can get up to make coffee. Strong, black coffee, just how we like it. He slips off his shoes, as he does every time he comes to my house, as well as his socks so he pads around my apartment barefoot. I hear his stealthy feet on my tile kitchen floor as I flit around grabbing a filter, coffee and two mugs.

"My first lesson in drawing," he confirms, swinging himself onto a bar stool, watching as I prepare our coffee.

"You were serious about that?" I ask smiling. I lean my back against the counter in front of the machine, hearing it purr and sputter as it percolates. The other night, Jace had admitted the best he could draw was a stick figure. I couldn't believe it after observing his hands at length and determining the slim fingers were meant to hold a paintbrush. I had offered to teach him, to which he joked he'd have to arrange proper lessons. We had laughed, which implied to me he had been kidding, yet here he was.

I poured the steaming coffee into our mugs and slid on over to Jace as I sat across from him at the kitchen island.

"I was deadly serious," he replies, taking a sip of his coffee to punctuate his point and proceeding to wince at the scalding temperature. I simply roll my eyes at the boy I'm soon starting to view as one of my best friends, or my only friend. I had been lonely before Jace, only working and occasionally sketching for enjoyment. No one I mad met seemed to truly care to get to know me for me instead of my success, yet Jace just felt so much different.

"Well then, I'm willing. I apologize in advance if I make you cry," I smirk over the rim of my cup.

"Why would sweet Clary Fray do such a thing?" he asks, taking a sip to hide his slight apprehension.

"I take art very seriously and if you intend to get better, I won't sugarcoat a thing. If it looks like roadkill on a canvas, I'll tell you," I admit.

"I would respect nothing else," he shoots back. Another thing that makes Jace so different is he can keep up with my sarcastic wit. Anyone else would label it as 'rude' or 'brooding' but he simply laughs or retorts just the same. It keeps our conversations very colorful to say the least.

We drink our coffee dry and then I pluck Jace's mug from his fingers and place them in the sink. I decide to start Jace off with probably the most basic element of art, the value scale. I grab my sketching pencils, blenders, and an abundance of paper.

Jace looks on eagerly, scooting his stool closer to mine, not wanting to miss a moment of instruction. It makes me excited to teach him if he's so serious about learning. I begin my making my own value scale, coloring from the deepest of charcoal to near white and all the greys in the middle. I set down the pencil and look at Jace. He looks slightly confused by what seems to be the end, but waits patiently for me to explain.

"This is a value scale," he nods, "it's a scale of all the greys between black and white, including the two extremes. This is what you use in sketching to add depth and make your stick figure drawings look realistic," I tell him.

"That's pretty cool," he admits, nodding his head in comprehension.

"You determine what's light and dark by finding your light source," I grab his phone and an apple. Flicking on the flashlight app he has, I shine it on the top, right of the apple, "You see you where the light is shining is light and the other side is dark with medium shades in between?" I ask.

"Yeah. This is where the value scale comes in," he replies.

"Exactly. You'd use a lighter weight pencil to sketch where the light is coming from, moving more bold as you reach the darker areas. Then, to give everything a smooth look, you rub your blender over the entire image, literally blending the leads together," I tell him, holding up the rolled paper and running it over my rough value sketch to show what it does.

I grab a fresh sheet of paper and draw a couple 3-dmesnisonal shapes for Jace to practice on. I draw a cube, pyramid and a cylinder. I do the same for myself so he can have an example to go off of. I slide a paper over to him and explain with pencils are lighter, darker or somewhere in between.

"Where's my light source coming from?" he asks and I feel like a proud teacher.

"It can come from anywhere, it's up to you," I tell him. He nods and immediately begins. I'm fascinated with the way his hands hold the paper with such precision as it scratches along the paper. He changes pencils just at the right time and when he's done, blends it to perfection.

He holds it up with a goofy grin, completely finished, while I haven't even started. I take his paper into my hands and scrutinize every detail, finding it to be perfect. The smooth transition of greys amazes me.

"You lying bastard," I mutter, still admiring the work.

"Whatever could you mean" the cheeky asshats asks.

"You've done this before. No one has ever done a value sketch this perfect before," I tell him, sliding it back over.

"I'm just perfect at everything," he smirks, signing the bottom corner. I pick it up with slitted eyes and hang it up on my fridge, because lying or not, it was beautiful.

"So what was it?" I ask, crossing my arms, "High school course? Online YouTube session? Natural talent you were simply hiding?" I ask, exhausting all possible explanations.

"High school course, freshman year," he replies.

"Why'd you stop?" I ask astonished. That art teacher should be ashamed she allowed a pupil like that to slip through her fingers. Unless she was glad to see him go, with that ego of his.

"I signed up for journalism instead," he replies, gaining a fond smile and excited eyes.

"You write," I suggest, remembering Jonathan was in journalism and he always kept a little book of stories and poems that popped up in that brain of his.

"I love it," Jace mutters softly, "I love reading, but I love creating more. I love being able to create characters that are people society could be proud of. Characters with empathy, and courage to stand up for what's right and the conscious to think of people aside form themselves," he admits, "I love being able to create worlds where broken people can be fixed and kids didn't have to grow into broken adults at all," his eyes are bright as he speaks, his words strong and fast as he speaks with the passion singing in his veins, practically glowing through his skin.

He looks to me, breathing steadily as his cheeks turn a carnation pink, perfect as it stays confined to the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose. I lean over the counter and place a soft kiss on the tip.

"I love talking to people who are passionate about things. And I'd love to read about these extraordinary people some time," I whisper, feeling this moment warranted a soft tone.

I'd love to see what you create as well," he whispers back, breath fanning over my neck. I lean back and gesture for him to follow me. He simply hops my counter and lands next to me as I shake my head.

"You're like a ninja," I mutter, leading him to my studio, he simply chuckles. Before I open the door, I lean against it and take Jace's hand.

"You know, characters in a book are only versions of the author that create them," before he can respond, I push open the door and tug him ready to reveal the versions of myself that were painted on canvas instead of written in ink.

I felt as if Jace and I had lived many lives together, and that I've known hm even before I was handed Magnus's card. By some divine intervention, I knew I'd know Jace somehow; it was just a matter of when.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** I'd like your opinion on if you think Jace and Clary are moving too fast or slow. Are the characters true to their book selves? I'd love to know how you guys all feel.

 **Jace**

I'm stunned by Clary's words, feeling my heart swell, but when my eyes can adjust to the warm light and explosion of color, I'm left incoherent. The canvases line the walls, are stacked on tables, leaning against one another ten deep. There are tons of sketchbooks which I can only assume are full of more breathtaking art.

"C-Clary," I sigh, feeling her fidget beside me, "These are amazing," I say, turning my head to face her. Our fingers are still twined together, so I give then a soft squeeze as I continue to look around.

I walk forward and tug her along with me so I can look at everything as soon as my eyes will allow. She laughs as I drag her through her own studio, asking where I should begin.

"Anywhere you'd like," she says softly, going to sit at her desk. Clary leans forward, her elbows resting on the painted, inked top. She rests her chin on her folded hands as she studies me. I do the same, appreciating the ruby color of her curls as they roll and tumble down her back.

Her green eyes spark in excitement and her skin seems to glow with her own light as the light from the skylight hit it. Snapping my eyes away, I cough a little as I feel my cheeks heat and I immediately will it to go away.

I observe the walls first, occasionally reaching out, wishing Clary's world would just swallow me into it. With each new canvas, I turn to look at the creator and find her smiling softly, growing more relaxed as the time goes by.

I take my time observing every square inch of canvas in the room, even a few works in progress Clary graciously pulled out for me. When only the sketchbooks are left, Clary grabs my wrist before I can grab the first one.

"Are these off limits?" I ask sheepishly, feeling bad for assuming she'd want me to see _everything_ of her world. Some things are just too personal. I'd know, with all the death filled stories that resonate a little too close to my own situations. I don't think anyone would ever gain my permission to read them. Unless, of course, Clary were to ask. I don't think I could refuse those green eyes a thing.

"No, it's just that I thought you may be hungry. You've been looking for about three hours," she tells me softly, laughing a little. My cheeks burn and I nod, noticing how hollow my stomach feels with only black coffee and Clary's art to metaphorically fill it.

"How about we order some pizza?" she asks, swinging herself onto her desk.

"Yes please," I reply coming to sit beside her. I listen as she speaks comfortably with the person on the other line. I laugh silently, imagining all the late night pizza she must have ordered with all this art she's created.

When she hangs up the phone, she jabs my ribs good naturedly before getting up and grabbing a stack of sketchbooks.

"Grab whatever you heart desires. We can look at them in the living room, where the comfy couches are," she wiggles her eyebrows before disappearing into the hallways that was lit by only the afternoon light from the abundant windows.

I stack three piles into my arms and follow her out to where she has placed them on the coffee table. I watch from the doorway as she thumbs through them quickly.

"These are some of my earlier ones," she gestures to the coffee table, "and if I remember correctly, those are from my fangirl stage," she smiles into the book she's holding.

"Fan girl stage?" I inquire laughing as I sit beside her, setting the books down carefully.

"Yes, fangirl stage. I would draw book characters as I envisioned them, as well as setting or certain situations. I had a very long fan art stage as well," she smiles fondly at what I can only assume are memories.

I'm about to ask what the others are when there's a knock on the door. She gets up to answer it.

"Can you grab the others for me? Those are my favorites," she calls from the hall leading to the door. I eagerly comply, jogging over and grabbing the rest of the books on the desk, not seeing any others, so I make my way back to the living room. I sit back on the couch when I hear something that makes my ears perk.

"Come on babe, I can give you a lot more than pizza," I hear a deep male voice offer. I cringe in disgust. I assume this would happen a lot to a girl like Clary, but I listen to her response, slightly worried she'd fall for it.

"No thanks, I'm on an all pizza diet,' she replies dryly, making me laugh into my fist.

"Aww babe, your no fun," the voice tries again. I get up sighing, deciding I'm hungry and I'm going to end this. I also don't appreciate the use of the word 'babe' when it comes to Clary and some guy.

I begin walking over to the door and smirk as a plan forms in my head. I whip my shirt over my head, tossing it to the side and walk up behind Clary. I wrap my arms around her waist, resting my chin on her shoulder.

I sigh in honest contentment, closing my eyes as I take in her scent before opening them to see a startled pizza delivery boy. Clary luckily realizes what I'm doing and leans back into my chest.

"What's taking so long, red?" I ask, trying to make my voice deep and husky.

"Um, uh that'll be $13.50," the boy says quickly.

"Thanks," Clary responds brightly, handing him the money and grabbing the pizza.

"Bye," I say, closing the door on the kid. We stand there for a few seconds before Clary bursts out laughing. I do as well, thinking of the kid's face.

"Thanks for that," Clary whispers to me.

"No problem, Red," I reply, hugging her closer.

"Whatever Goldie," she giggles, twisting away and leaving with the pizza.

When I walk into the kitchen, she's placing pizza on two plates and grabbing two cans of soda. She hums a soft sweet tune to herself as she dances around the kitchen. I sit at the bar, still shirtless, wondering if Clary notices or cares. It'd kind of sting if she didn't.

"I think you scared that kid really bad," she laughs, handing me a plate and can, her eyes dropping to my chest and dancing down my torso. I sit a little taller in my chair and take a bite of pizza, waiting for her to lazily pull her eyes back to mine.

"If you expect me to blush, don't hold your breath," she says, brushing shoulders with me on her way to the living room, leaving me speechless.

I let out a low, hissing breath before following her. She's lying across the couch, letting the cheese melt right into her mouth. The curve of her throat and soft pink lips mesmerize me.

She chews thoughtfully before I sit beside her, still shirtless.

"You know, can I ask you something?" she says.

"You just did," I smirk as she throws her legs over my lap. Rolling her eyes, she elaborates,

"Can I draw you?" she asks.

"You want to draw me?" I choke, "why?"

"Your face is the epitome of symmetry. Your sharp cheekbones, strong jaw, striking eyes and full lips would be the best thing to draw, if you don't mind," she admits, turning my face slowly from side to side.

"Of course," I reply.

"Good, finish eating and then we can start," she says, eating as I jump and dance inside.

 **Clary**

I finish eating with Jace, my legs slung over his lap. Outside, I'm cool and collected, but I'm a trembling deep in my core. I had never straight up asked to draw anyone before. I usually just observed and drew from memory, filling in any holes.

But now, I'd have a real-life model and one as perfect as Jace. We finish soon enough, and he looks at me expectantly. I get up, taking our plates to the kitchen. I grab my current sketchbook from my room and my pencils before returning to find Jace where I left him.

"Um, I've never done this before," he admits nervously, wiping his palms on his jeans.

"Me either," I reply, smiling as I flip to a fresh sheet, "Look through the books if you like, it may make it easier to get a genuine reaction if you do," I tell him, knowing I was looking for a special look in his eye that needed to be documented on paper.

"As you wish,' he smiles cheekily at me, to which I roll my eyes. He picks up the book I know to hold my dream destinations, landmarks of all the cities and countries I can only hope to see in person. Most are black and grey but a few do have accents of color.

He pauses on a page that holds a mystical lake that is part of a small country in Europe. I remember reading online it was called Lake Lyn and had a pretty cool legend behind it.

When I look up to Jace, I know what I have to draw. His eyes are bright with recognition and adoration, his mouth quirked into an endearing grin not a full smile but not his little smirk either.

"Is this Lake Lyn?" he asks.

"Yeah, how do you know about it?" I ask in happy surprise.

"My mom was from Idris, the country Lake Lyn is in," he says in disbelief, looking down at the page, his fingers ghosting over the glistening waters and burning sun as it sets on the forest I know surrounds the lake.

"I've never seen anyone draw it exactly how it look sin life. It's always missing something, something that shows just how magical it truly is," he says fondly.

"You've been?" I ask excitedly.

"Yeah. I always went as a kid, because my mom still had family in Idris. We'd always take a day trip to the lake," he says, his tone growing somber, "until it happened," he mutters to himself. He looks distant, but shakes his head before looking back at the picture

I take the sketchbook and carefully remove the page, handing it to him, "Keep it, if it's perfect," I offer the paper, which he takes carefully, as if it's made of pure gold.

"Thank you," he says softly. Then his arms are around me, pulling my body to his warm one. I soak in his scent as his skin wraps me in him, making me feel at home for the first time in my life.

Pulling back slightly, his eyes are blazing with a flick between my own, his lips descend. They land firm and sure on my own, moving slow and fast all at once. His tongue pokes out, prodding my lips open, which I allow. My hands start at the base of his neck, but soon grow tangled in the silken locks, pulling slightly as his hands dance across my back, searing through the thin t-shirt I'm wearing.

When we pull apart, Jace goes in for another kiss, but I hold him back by his shoulders. He groans in indignation, to which I giggle, opening his eyes to look at me. The warm, molten gold looks up in adoration and sweet promises of more moments like this one.

"I really need to start drawing," I whisper against his lips.

"Your wish is m command Red," he replies.


	5. Chapter 5

**Clary**

My pencil scratching across the thick sketchbook paper fills the air of my living room as Jace silently watches me draw him. I work diligently and quietly, trying to commit the look his eyes held for too short of a time to memory so I could draw it perfectly. Who knows when I would get the privilege to see it again?

"Clary…" he whispers.

"Hold on," I reply softly, adding highlights to his expressioned eyes, the only things I've drawn so far. I could always draw his hair or cheekbones later, they remained the same in this moment. It was those damn eyes and that damn grin that had to be drawn as soon as possible.

"Clary…" he whispers again, his voice much closer to me now. I look up slowly, slightly annoyed, but when I see him braced over me, his eyes blazing, I just about chuck my book to the floor.

"Yes?" I ask my voice low and raspy. I clear it quickly, feeling my cheeks warm.

"I think I want dessert," he sighs into my ear.

"I could go for some ice cream," I reply thoughtfully, thinking of the mint chocolate carton currently in my freezer.

"I always liked strawberry shortcake, personally," he mutters.

"I don't have any strawberry shortcake," I reply cheekily, realizing what he meant.

"Oh, I believe you do," he smirks before claiming my lips once more. I melt against the couch cushions, Jace lying over my body, sinking me even further into the worn leather. My sketchbook is pressed against my chest, separating it from Jace's.

He breaks from me and pulls back slightly. He looks down to where the metal rings of the book had dug into his golden skin, leaving a long column of red strips about an inch long. He chuckles before grabbing the book and gently placing it on the coffee table.

"I love your art, I really do, especially when it's me, but do you think it could wait?" he asks, looking at me hopefully.

"For you, I suppose," I sigh dramatically, earning a deep belly chuckle that makes Jace vibrate against me. I know he has a witty response, but the blare of his ringtone cuts him off. I reach back and grab it, holding his phone out for him to answer, but he just shakes his head, leaning down to kiss my shoulder, where my shirt slipped down.

"You aren't going to answer it?" I ask confused. Past boyfriends never missed a call, even if I begged them to just hit ignore. Not that Jace was my boyfriend or anything. This is just to make our story believable, or is it? I'm not too sure anymore.

"Nothing is as important as what I'm doing right now," he mutters against my neck. I blush furiously and smile. He smiles against my skin, making me sigh. Jace's hand finds purchase just above the hem of my t-shirt, his hand warm and slightly rough on my hip.

The ringing stops but begins again a few seconds later. Jace continues to ignore it, until it happens again. This is when I answer the phone for him and hold it to his ear.

"It must be important," I whisper when he attempts to hang up. He pouts before taking the phone into his hand and grumbling a greeting.

He talks to the person on the other line for a few minutes, furrowing his brows occasionally, but when he hangs up, his shoulders are tense. He tosses his phone onto the coffee table and leans back on the couch, looking over to me.

"Was it important?" I inquire, wondering if he'll tell me that's something is obviously bothering him.

"Not in the least," he smiles back. Guess not. He's leaning back in for another kiss, but my hand on his firm, still bare chest stops him. He growls low in his throat before dropping his head to kiss my wrist.

"Please, can I finish the sketch," I ask, looking longingly at my discarded book, feeling the image of Jace that I wanted to draw slip as different, more scandalous ones filled my mind's eye.

"For the sake of art," he exclaims dramatically, throwing himself back into my cushions. I happily grab my book and get comfy, knowing the fun part is coming.

 **Jace**

As Clary works on the sketch, I think of the unwelcome conversation with Magnus I just had.

 _"Hello Darling, where has my golden boy been the past week?" Magnus asked his words seemingly light but his tone held annoyance and slight worry._

 _"Around," I reply, looking to where Clary was observing her sketch that lay on the coffee table and I smile._

 _"In girl's beds around, or wondering the streets like a bum around," he inquires, knowing it's all or nothing with me._

 _"Neither actually, I'm working on an assignment," I say quietly, for Clary to not become suspicious as to whom I'm talking with or about._

 _"The only assignment I gave you was-"he stops himself and I can almost see his smirk through the phone, "I knew it, Alec owes me twenty bucks," he mutters._

 _"What's that?" I ask._

 _"I knew you'd fall, hard and fast for this one, Alec said you'd just see it as another assignment," Magnus confirms._

 _"I'm not falling, but it's not exactly a regular assignment. She's like a really cool girl I'd potentially be friends with," I respond, tasting the bitter words as I realize the lie. Who was I kidding with this 'friends' bullshit?_

 _"Bullshit," bingo, "You barely make it through three hours with the same girl, so to spend an entire week with one, you're digging a nice little grave for you bachelor lifestyle," he laughs, but it sounds slightly nervous._

 _"What, are you worried you'll lose your cash cow?" I ask, my words coming harsher than intended._

 _"What, no Jace it's not like that. If you like this girl, good for you, it's her I'm worried about. You're not really the relationship guy, and Clary is the relationship type of girl. Don't get too attached if this is just going to be another chapter to turn the page on," with that, Magnus hangs up._

I'm snapped from my thoughts when Clary holds her book up in triumph, causing a humored noise escape my lips. She looks over with hair flying in her eyes, which shine bright, and there's a smug of pencil on her cheek, standing out even darker against her ivory skin.

She holds the book out to me sheepishly, which I take. I look down gingerly, seeing a mirror. Well, it's a book, but the image is simply perfect. It's exactly what I see when I look in the mirror, the curve of my nose, the position of my lips, and the shape of my eyes. Looking into them, I see something I've never had the privilege to see myself, something I'm slightly embarrassed by. It's a childlike wonder.

I look young and excited and completely vulnerable, which scares me, because it was there for Clary to plainly record. She's seen it, and now there's no going back. I look up and find her getting antsy, obviously waiting for some kind of reaction.

"It's breathtaking," I whisper, "You are the most amazing artist I've ever seen, met, heard of," I admit, taking every detail of my paper twin.

"Thank you," she replies softly. I feel the couch shift as she gets up, and I'm about to question where she's going when she returns. She takes the book gently from me and shakes a can of what appears to be hairspray. She sprays it over the entire page then blows on it lightly.

"The only use I've ever had for hairspray," she chuckles, closing the book and sitting across from me, putting the book on the table with the can sitting on top.

"What's it for?" I inquire.

"It keeps the pencil from smudging or getting rubbed off. The shading was so perfect, I had to preserve it," she responds, cracking her fingers then her wrists. Looking at the clock, I see its almost 8pm and realize I'm been here literally all day.

"Want to watch a movie?" Clary asks standing and walking to a cabinet that she opens to reveal a rather impressive movie collection.

"You aren't sick of me yet?" I joke, hoping the answer isn't yes.

"Nah, your fun to hang out with,' she smiles back at me, pulling a handful of movies, "if we are going to talk, you have to see or know what these are," she says completely serious as she hands me them.

I look each one over, finding Napoleon Dynamite, Breakfast Club, Elf, The Duff, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, and all the Saw movies. I smile, noting I have watched all the above, minus the Duff. I hand the rest back, holding the movie up.

"I guess we are watching the Duff," I reply, sitting on the couch. She smiles, puts the other movies back before plucking the package from my fingers before putting it in and coming back to sit beside me.

"Do you even know what it's about?" Clary asks, throwing her legs over my lap.

"Nope," I reply, watching the ads for other movies scroll by before the opening screen appears.

"Get ready," she says jokingly, pressing play.

I'm only slightly embarrassed to admit I love this movie. I'm totally into it until Clary pauses it.

"Hey! I happen to love Project runway!" I had just yelled at the screen, watching as it froze before my eyes. Clary laughs as she gets up and walks away. I silently follow, unsure what else to do without any info on what she's doing.

She walks down the hall and opens the door across from her studio. It's a large room I observe when she turns on the lights. The walls are a warm orange and there are more sketches hung haphazardly with tape than canvas in this room, but they still draw my attention.

"I'm freezing," Clary mutters as she drags her comforter off her bed and wraps it around her shoulders, coming to stand beside me.

'I could have warmed you up," the response comes to naturally; it sounds nonchalant as I continue to gaze at Clary's art. She chuckles and grabs my hand.

"You can look at these some other time, let's go finish the movie," she tells me. I nod and walk quickly to the living room. Clary runs behind and hopes on my back, the comforter falling around both of us. My arms quickly come to grab her legs as her arms twine my neck. I carry her into the living room as we laugh.

I sit down on the couch, sitting on Clary.

"Get off me!" she laughs.

"But your so comfy," I sigh, snuggling back into her.

"Get off you WHALE!" she laughs a little breathless.

"Excuse you! I'm the most gorgeous homosapien on the face of the earth," I shoot back, smiling as I hear her laugh.

"My apologies," Clary responds, the utmost sarcasm in her voice.

"I'll forgive you if you give me something," I reply.

"What? A salad?" she laughs at her little joke.

"Haha, no. A kiss," I deadpan.

"Fine, just get off," she whines, to which I roll off and pout my lips. She giggles and places a kiss on my… cheek. I look up in surprise as she smirks and plays the movie.


	6. Chapter 6

**Jace**

It's been a week since Clary left me hanging. We had finished the movie and soon after I went home. Since then, we've been to dinner, lunch breakfast, her house, and I've even accompanied her to the office where she showed me a few of her projects.

The fact that I wrote had come up in casual conversation and I had invited Clary to my apartment to read some stuff. I kept it to sweet, nothing important poems or writing prompt answers I've resorted to in times of severe writers block. Like 'what if your big toe could talk?' writing prompts. Those kinds always made Clary laugh. Damn, I loved her laugh.

I had also been avoiding Magnus. I'm not particularly mad or anything, just irked. Maybe because what he'd said was the truth, as much as I wish it wasn't. If I didn't talk to Magnus, I didn't have to face the facts that I could hurt Clary, emotionally, which is the last thing I want or intend to do.

These were the heavy thoughts occupying my mind when Clary called and asked if I wanted to come over to play Twister. So here I am my hands dangerously close to Clary's rear end and top end, and our noses mere centimeters away. She found this app where you say 'spin' and then it says what it lands on. Good thing, because neither of us are in any position to use the actual spinner.

"spin," I call out.

"Right hand, blue," the automated voice responds. Looking at blue, it right under Clary, all of them.

"This is so hard," she moans, moving her hand a few inches under her back and I do the same. As she calls out spin once more, my mind travels. My arms are practically wrapped around her waist right now. I can smell her perfume right now. Another inch and I could be kissing her …RIGHT NOW!" With that final thought, I fall, on top of Clary.

"Seriously Jace! You can't give me some sort of warning!" she exclaims. Most of the games have ended with me on top, much to Clary's annoyance, because to her I am 'a whale'.

"It's not my fault I've been on my arms for nearly twenty minutes," I cover. My arms are fine, it's my stomach that dances and flutters when I am in any kind of proximity to Clary.

"You poor thing," she rolls her eyes as I sit up and she follows suit, sitting cross-legged in front of me, while I stretch my legs out on either side of her.

"What do you want to do now?" I inquire. It's only eight, but we have been playing twister for a little over two hours.

"Talk," she responds simply.

"Okay, you first," I urge.

"Well, the wedding is coming up," Clary wrings her hands together.

"Do you still want me to come with you?" I ask.

"Of course," she smiles at me, then she goes somber again, "but we haven't talked about how much I owe you," she seems nervous or at the very least uncomfortable.

"Clary," I say softly, cupping her cheek with my hand, raising her eyes to mine, "I care about you. I would never expect someone I care about to pay for my company, and you are no different," I don't want to say she's my friend, because the friend zone is inescapable but I don't want to take what we have too far and freak her out.

"I care about you too," she smiles broadly at me and throws herself into my arms, wrapping her own around me in a hug. The force sends me back onto her floor and I just laugh in happiness as I wrap my own arms around her.

"So, when is the wedding exactly?" I inquire. Clary pulls back slightly, but she just rests her entwined hands on my chest, her chin on top while my arms remain around her waist.

"Two weeks," she replies, "I know it's a little fast," she continues.

"It's no big deal," I reply, offering a genuine smile. I was excited for it to be me and Clary. Even though there will also be a ton of other people around, when I was with Clary, it was like not a single soul existed, except for her and me.

"So, we could fly or drive," she continues, "It's probably ten hours away or something like that, by car,"

"I've never had a road trip before," I ponder, thinking how fun it would be.

"ROAD TRIP IT IS!" she exclaims, throwing a fist in the air. I can only laugh at how adorable she looks.

"So it is," I reply.

***TWO AND ½ WEEKS LATER***

Today, Clary was coming over to help me pack for our trip. We decided to leave a couple days early because she wants to make the most of my first road trip by stopping at a bunch of cool restaurants and attractions on the way. She said we may even go to an amusement park.

I had packed some necessaries such as underwear, socks, shampoo, conditioner, deodorant, my brush and some extra toothpaste. I do still need my toothbrush for before the trip, so I'd just grab that the morning of. I would wait for Clary to help me with day to day outfits based on the climate and what we were going to be doing.

All I knew was there was a wedding, but that wouldn't last the entire duration of the trip, so we'll see what else I'm in for. I had a nice suit picked out with a shirt and tie, so I'll just grab Clary's approval on that.

At around two, I hear my doorbell and immediately buzz them up, not even bothering to check who was at the door pretty sure it was Clary. Within moments, the front door shakes with the pounding from the other side, startling me. I don't see how or why Clary would be using such force unless she was epically pissed at me, so I rush over to answer the door only to come face to face with a very angry Magnus.

"Where in the hell have you been?" he screams as he storms into my apartment.

"Here, there, everywhere," I respond tiredly. I should have expected Magnus to come sniffing around soon enough.

"Jace, cut the poetic bullshit for a minute," he pinches the bridge of his nose, "I have been calling you every hour for two weeks and been dropping by, but are you ever here, NO, YOU'RE NOT!" he yells.

"Maybe because I don't want to talk to you," I bite back.

"Stop being such a toddler Jace," he scolds, making my own anger flare.

"I'm not being a toddler. I'm simply pissed because all you see me and the other guys as if a payday." I know it's not true. We're all a family, with Magnus as our kooky, weird uncle. We care about each other, Magnus being the one to bring us all together, but right now, I need to blame someone, and Magnus is here.

"You know that's not true," he says smoothly, his anger quelled as he speaks, "you're simply trying to avoid the fact that you are getting close to someone, and they have the ability to hurt you. You've never been open, even with the other guys, but Clary is different," he finishes.

When Magnus found me, I was simply a mess, and he was right. He was then and he is now, not that I have to like it.

"are you still finishing the assignment?' he asks.

"It's not an assignment anymore Magnus," I reply, "I am going, but as Clary's friend, and she sure as hell will not be paying,"

"I expected nothing less," Magnus smiles, making his way to the door. He places a hand on the handle, but he then turns to face me, "You love her. You may not realize it, but I do. You love her and that's what's scaring you. Just make sure I'm the only one you blow up on today. Oh, and nice art" then he's gone.

 **Clary**

After meeting with a client, I make my way to Jace's apartment. I make it there around three with a big smile on my face. I've been to his place a few times and I really like it here. He has a beautiful view of the Hudson.

His walls used to be plain and white despite his clear appreciation for art. He had claimed he had never found anything that spoke to him, at least before h saw my work.

Together, we had framed the picture of Idris and hung up a few works from my archive. The sketch of Idris was hanging right next to the door.

"I want to see it every time I come and leave," he had said, a nail dangling from his lips, a hammer in hand. He had looked extremely hot.

I kept the original sketch I did of him, but I had done a few others in the past two weeks, so he now had a few of those around, and then there were a few landscapes of New York he had wanted to hang up. I didn't stop him.

I was so flattered he wanted my work on his wall, but he acted like it was no big deal. He acted as if my work belonged there, and he just wanted to bring it home. That's when I knew I wanted him to be mine. We had avoided calling each other friends, which I now realized was at least my subconscious telling me I wanted more. If only I knew the same was for Jace.

Like every other time, I ring Jace's buzzer and wait for him to buzz me in, which he does after only a few seconds. Then I take the elevator up to the top floor and his door is all the way at the end of the hall.

Sometimes, he's even waiting by the door, like now. He smiles and holds his hands out for a hug. I've learned that Jace is quite the hugger. Not the silly side hugs or one arm pat the back thing. No, he loves the full body, squeeze tight bear hugs.

"Hey clare-bear," he greeted.

"Hey goldilocks," I reply, following him into his apartment. Another thing Jace loved nicknames. Just about everyone in his contact list has a nickname, especially me. My full name was Clare-bear red strawberry shortcake Jace admirer. It was not open for discussion.

"I didn't have any idea what to pack, so consider me your life-size Ken doll," he laughs, leading me to his pristine bedroom. I had at least talked him into a comforter with some red in it. It really pops against the black and white of his room.

Jace sits on his bed as I riffle through his closet and drawers. I end up with a few casual outfits as well as a few nicer ones for the rehearsal dinner and anything else. Jace told me he had a wedding outfit picked out that he wanted me to approve of, so I did that as well.

Needless to say, I couldn't wait to see Jace, as gorgeous as he is in a suit. I had really only seen him in jeans and t-shirts or hoodies. I just knew he'd clean up really nice.

Once I was done, Jace grabbed his suitcase and laid it on his perfectly made bed. He took my neat stacks of clothes and decided what shoes he'd wear with them before putting them in the case, followed by the shoes and his toiletries. He has his suit in a garment bag that we'll just hang up in the back seat of his truck. We would take my car, but his is so much roomier, and he offered.

"Now that that's done, what do you want to do?"

"Want to come home with me-"I begin, but he's already nodding his head eagerly and grabbing his leather jacket.

"Yep, yes, and sure," he replies. I can only laugh before I continue.

"As I was saying, come home with me. I'll make some lunch then you can help me pack," I finish.

"Still, yep, yes, and sure. I also want a rematch at Guitar hero, I have a good feeling about today," he looks determined.

"Sounds good to me," Jace leads us out his apartment building and I drive us over to my place.

 **Jace**

Clary makes the best chicken stir fry I've ever had in my life. With full bellies, she leads me to her room and sits me on her teal and black comforter. I've noticed that some of Clary's colorful world has bled into my own while still remaining just as bright.

Her walls are still covered in sketches, some of which are of me, and just about every flat surface is covered in paints or pastels or pencils, but I don't mind. Her room and her entire apartment always feels so personal and homey, which would normally scare me, but now I find comfort in it.

Clary begins yanking things off hangers and tossing them on the bed as she mutters to herself. She'll occasionally hold something up in front of herself before tossing it with the rest.

"Is there any way I could help?" I ask, seeing her grow more and more stressed and overwhelmed.

She looks over to me as if realizing I'm still here for the first time since we walked in. Then she shakes her head and gives me a soft smile.

"I'm just really nervous. I haven't seen my family or been back home since I left. I don't know them anymore and they never really knew me," she sighs, collapsing on the bed beside me. I place a hand on her knee and squeeze.

"You just have to walk in there with confidence in who you are now. You look beautiful in everything you put on, so there should be no problem there," I tell her. I hear her scoff and I frown. She has to believe me.

"I'm not beautiful," she mutters. I snap my head to look at her in shock.

"Clary, I have seen thousands of women in my life and I can assure you that you are more beautiful than each and every one of them," I whisper. She looks over and before she can respond, I lean down and press our lips together. It short and soft and I can only hope it reassures her of everything I said.

"Okay," she whispers back when I pull away.

"Now, I think I'm in the mood for a fashion show," she laughs and jumps from the bed. What I don't expect is for her confidence to lead her to changing right in front of me. She is simply full of surprises, especially the red and black lace number she has on under the old band tee and paint splattered jeans.


	7. Chapter 7

**I am uber sorry that I haven't updated, but class has been kicking my a**. Just to refresh your minds, Jace is helping Clary pack for the trip.**

 **Jace**

My throat feel dry and scratchy as Clary paws through the pile of clothes and yanks a dress from the bottom, completely confident in only her underwear. I know I told her to be confident, but I was not expecting this.

She slips the dress up her legs and pulls the straps over her shoulders. It's a long, royal blue dress with no back, a slit up the leg and a plunging front.

Clary adjusts it on her body and when she's done, she looks to me.

"How does this look?" she asks. My mind has gone into overdrive and all I can do is vigorously nod.

"Good, great, wonderful, yes," my cheeks are flaming and I can't stop the words from coming.

She giggles at my reaction before turning to look at herself in the mirror.

"It may be a little much for a country wedding though," she ponders. She slips it off and goes back to the pile. She pulls a shorter, lace dress the color of midnight. This one is more form fitting and she simply pulls it on over her head, rumpling her wild curls.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she sighs, "My brother would have a heart attack,"

She chooses her third dress, a pure black one that is long like the first, but simple in design and slightly more modest. She looks to me for approval and looking from her eyes down her cream neck and following the line of the dress, she has never looked more beautiful.

"You look radiant," I tell her. She smiles brightly and looks at herself in the mirror once again.

"This is the one," she sighs happily, setting it aside.

 **Clary**

It takes nearly two hours for me to decide on daily outfits, shoes and accessories, not to mention Jace is very good at distractions.

For the better part of thirty minutes, he was trying on my bras and trying to get me to flat iron his hair.

"It would look to luscious!" he exclaimed as I tried to decide what to wear to the rehearsal dinner.

"So try it yourself," I told him, pointing to the flat iron on my vanity.

"How would I do the back? I don't have eyes back there Clary," he retorted. In the end, he ended up falling asleep among the clothes that didn't make the final cut. I can't help but laugh at his sleeping face, so open and young. He looks like a little kid that got lost in his mom's closet.

I begin hanging up the discarded clothes when I hear him stir behind me.

"I feel like I'm being impaled," he mutters sleepily and when I turn, I see him struggling to unclasp the bra he has situated over his t-shirt.

"Story of my life," I reply, doing over to undo the _front-closing_ clasp.

"I didn't even know they could do that," he looks down in astonishment as I laugh at how crazy he looks.

"If you get me pizza, I'll flat iron your hair," I offer, feeling my stomach grumble and seeing the setting sun through my window.

"Okay!" he exclaims, jumping from my bed and flinging the bra back at me. I catch it and hear him running bare footed into my kitchen to order our usual.

By the time her returns with promises of soon arriving pizza, all my clothes are put away and I'm heating up the iron. I push him to sit on my bed and begin pulling on his curls. When they are stretched out, they are about twice as long, this should be fun.

"How about I just give you a haircut instead?" I offer.

"Do you know how?" he asks guardedly.

"Yeah, I took cosmetology in high school, as well as art," I fib, trying not to laugh.

"Somehow I doubt that," he scoffs and I bust out laughing.

"You can learn anything on YouTube," I offer and he nods in agreement.

"I love you kiddo, but no," my fingers freeze in his hair. What does he mean by that? Does he mean platonic love, brotherly love, friend love, or LOVE love? He must realize what he said because he turns to look at me slowly before groping for words.

"I um, what I meant was, uh," that's when the doorbell rings, startling us and he jumps up to get it, fleeing my room like a bat out of hell.

 **Jace**

Stupid, Stupid, Stupid, Stupid, Stupid, Stupid. How could I slip up like that? What did I even mean?! I pay for the pizza in a haze and slowly return to Clary, unsure of what I'm going to walk in on. What I see is her waiting patiently and when she sees me, she smiles.

"Good, I'm starving" she exclaims, claiming the box, "Sit down and I'll start," she tells me. For a second I think I imagined the entire event, the way she's acting like nothing happened.

But no, I definitely slipped and said the words. I'm not even sure of their context at the moment. I mean, people say they love each other all the time, what makes us any different? Then I realize that my feelings for this girl are what make us different. I care about her so deeply it aches. I'm not sure if its love, but I've never felt this way before, so it can very well be.


	8. Chapter 8

**Yes, I'm a failure. I haven't updated since dinosaurs roamed the earth which I know can be destressing too many readers, so I will try to update more now that it is summer…please forgive me, my loves.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing except the storyline**

 **Authors P.O.V**

It's dark when Jace's alarm goes off. Grumbling and groaning in his comforter, his hands grope the floor beside his bed for the offending device. When his fingers stumble upon his phone, he slides on over the screen, only to have it begin screaming at him again.

Even though the brightness from the screen assaults his corneas, he can see the flash of red curls. His phone was alight with the image of Clary in central park, signaling that she was calling him.

"Jace!" she whisper yelled into the phone. He could tell she had been awake for hours, and wanted him to be as well.

"Yes, Clary," he replied, his voice rough through the receiver, making her cheeks warm from her apartment.

"Wake up!" she finally laughed into the phone, "You have to be here within the hour so we can stay on schedule," she told him.

"Talk to me while I get ready so I don't fall back to sleep," he requested, standing from his bed, his bare skin being assaulted by the cold air of his apartment. Jace never realized how cold it was until Clary had been there to warm him.

"Okay," she sighed good-naturedly, "Should I wear your green sweatshirt or the red one?' she asked and he could hear her rummaging around on the other end as well.

"Green," he replied as he dressed his bed. A few days ago, she had raided Jace's closet for comfy sweatshirts, since she had never had a boy to do that with before. When she talked as sweet as she had, Jace would give her anything.

Jace made his way to the bathroom and as he relieved his bladder, he heard Clary squeal through the phone.

"Ew Jace! I can hear you peeing!" she started to laugh through the phone and only erupted into further fits of laughter when he flushed.

"I'm glad this is amusing," he replied, going to his sink to brush his teeth. He shook his head with a smile at the girl over the phone. They had done lots of things over the phone, including cooking; taking the subway and Clary even narrated her entire supermarket trip once. In reality, they were never truly alone.

When Jace had finished brushing his teeth, he put his toothbrush in a plastic baggie so he could put it in his bag. He dressed quickly and made sure everything was left in tip top shape in his apartment for his departure. His friends Alec and Simon would be house sitting, but he still didn't want to return to a mess.

With Clary asking him if he was sure he had everything, Jace locked the door and made his way into the elevator.

"I'll be there soon, I'm heading out now," he told her, sliding into his truck.

"Okay, see you soon," then the line went dead.

Clary hung up the phone with Jace and checked over her apartment. She had her bags by the door, ready to go when he phone began to ring again.

"Hello?" she asked absently, running through a mental list, checking to make sure she had everything.

"Not backing out on me little sister, are you?" Jon chuckled into the phone, though his tone was slightly reserved. They had spoken briefly since their last phone call, and she could still feel he was a little prickly over everything.

"Wouldn't dream of it," she replied truthfully, "We should be there tonight," she replied, only realizing her slip up as it came out.

"We?" Jon asked, his tone gaining a tilt of mischief.

"Yes, we," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, "I'm bringing someone," she said.

"Wow… the famous Clary Fray actually bringing a boy home to the family," he cooed.

"Don't get too excited," she told him, hearing the buzzer ring through her apartment. She walked over and buzzed Jace up before continuing, "We aren't engaged, married and I'm not pregnant," she clarified.

"Sweetheart, you're engaged to your work, married to yourself and your latest project is your child," he sounded like their great aunt Ethel.

"Well, he seems to have wormed his way in somehow," she smiled into the phone.

"Glad to hear it baby sis. See you tonight," then he was gone. She was glad at least someone else knew about her traveling companion, but then she realized why she hadn't told Jon. He couldn't keep his lips from flapping. By the time Clary arrived, all of Tennessee would know their untouchable Clarissa had-pray to anyone who would listen-finally decided to settle down.

She shivered simply thinking about it. Though, the chill that assaulted her very soul thawed as Jace appeared in her open doorway, looking like a child, rubbing his eyes tiredly as his other hand resided in his hoodie pocket and his curls looped in a deliciously messy halo around his head.

Even at this ungodly hour, he found a smile for her that he offered wholeheartedly, going in for a hug.

"Hey babe," he whispered. Though he had taken to the term of endearment in the most platonic of ways, this time seemed different. Maybe it was the way he seemed to hold her a little closer, or the way his voice was warm against the shell of her ear. It wreaks havoc in her insides.

"Hi, Jace," she whispered back. She saw no need for terms of endearment for Jace when his name rolled off her tongue so smoothly and it made them both feel so at home.

"Ready to go?" he asked, pulling away only slightly, arms looped loosely around her waist.

"As I'll ever be," she raised her shoulders to her ears, offering a light smile. She had to smile or else she'd cry. All the nerves and anxiousness rolled together brought a burning sensation to her throat and pressure to the backs of her eyes that made her want to simply lie down. She shouldn't feel that way about seeing her family, but they simply didn't know he anymore and she was sure many didn't even approve of her.

Jace searched her eyes before slowly nodding. He grabbed her largest bag, leaving her to carry her toiletries and garment bag that held the dress for the wedding. She locked her apartment door, already missing the comforting scents of clean cotton, sun warmed sand candles, and turpentine.

Jace lead Clary down to the truck she had come to love. She enjoyed the smooth feel of it rolling across the uneven pavement and the way she sat so high up, even if it required some effort to get into. Her companion lifted her luggage into the back along with her other bag. She went around to the back seat to hang her garment bag along with his before getting into the front seat.

When Jace swung himself into the driver's seat, he sat for a moment before turning to Clary. His hand reached behind him blindly, locking the doors. Something in his eyes made Clary stand at attention, but also made her want to shrink away from such intensity. No one had ever looked at her like that.

"Clary…before we begin out trip, I need you to listen very closely to what I'm going to tell you," he told her, speaking slowly and softly, scooting closer so his face was mere inches from hers.

She could only nod.

"No matter what they say, whoever they are, you have to understand that you are the most marvelous human being I have ever met. They don't have the right to make you feel inferior or guilty for the life you have made yourself. Don't be ashamed of the woman you've become because you have fought to become her and she is my favorite person on this earth. You inspire me to be more than I am, to do something that scares me, which is why I can't stand to not have you in my life," he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, "I have never felt this way about another person," he said, eyes still closed.

"Jace," she puffed out, her mind sluggish, as if it crashed trying to ingrain every beautiful word that left this beautiful man's mouth.

"You don't have to say anything, but I had to. I can't risk being shoved into the third circle of hell known as the friend zone," he finally opened his eyes, they were soft. Clary's tongue felt heavy in her mouth, and as Jace began to turn away, putting his key into the ignition, she began to panic. She couldn't simply say nothing.

She slammed her hand over his, making him jump. He looked over at her confused. Before her brain could approve, her heart sent her flying over the center console, her lips slamming into Jace's. He quickly reciprocated, his hand finding her waist under the worn cotton of his ancient green hoodie.

"You are certainly not my friend," Clary whispered, her lips brushing over his as she pulled back. She opened her eyes to find Jace back to himself, grinning happily as he looked at her.

"Well, I'm going to take that as a good thing," Jace chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. Clary laughed with him. This was what she loved about them, together. It was comfortable. She was more comfortable with Jace than she had been in her own skin for majority of her life.

"I don't know what this is, but we will definitely be revisiting this conversation," she told him, pointing a finger at him "And I'm not giving your sweatshirts back," she told him, feeling all the more at home in his shirt than ever before

"Oh babe, you own way more than my sweatshirts," he told her cryptically before pulling out of the parking space.

 **How was that? Please review because I'M BACK BABY!**


	9. Chapter 9

If Jace was being completely honest, he was a little Jealous that Clary so easily fell asleep as they began their trip. She had promised to stay awake if he had to, whether it meant talking, or listening to music or reading a book, yet here she was, dead asleep. But it wasn't all that bad. She made the sweetest noises when she was sleeping. She sighed and cooed and sometimes giggled. It made Jace smile through his tiredness as they drove along miles upon miles of open road.

What truly made him beam with happiness was when he heard her mutter one word over and over in her sleep induced coma. It was a single name, his name.

"Jace," she would sigh before smiling softly to herself, cuddling down into the large hood of his stolen sweatshirt.

When it got to around eleven in the morning, Jace pulled into a gas station. Clary stirred lightly in her sleep before sitting up and rubbing at her eyes. Looking over, she smiled at Jace. Then, she reached her small hand out to pat him on the cheek.

"Hi," she whispered.

"Hi," he cooed, pushing some rouge strands of hair from her eyes, "We're at a gas station. I'm going to go grab some snacks and use the bathroom," he told her. She nodded and unbuckled her seatbelt.

"I'll come with you," she told him, stepping out of the passenger side door. They walked together into the small shop beside the station as the truck filled up. They hit the restrooms first and when Jace was done, he wandered to the closest isle to the bathrooms, not wanting Clary to be alone with all these strange men milling around.

When she emerged, she looked more awake and refreshed, her hair pulled back into a neater bun than before, and her eyes were bright. Seeing Jace, she came up to stand beside him. She stood a little closer than normal, feeling uncomfortable with the glances she was getting from the heavily tattooed and pierced men. Jace must have noticed, because he wrapped his free arm around her shoulders, pulling her flush against him.

"What kind of snacks do you want?" he asked, motioning to the wide array of packaged foods.

"Pringles, and Oreos," she smiled, reaching excitedly for the bright packages. Jace simply chuckled as he grabbed Hostess cupcakes and a pack of onion rings. They also grabbed a few drinks before heading to the front counter. Jace paid for their haul before taking Clary's hand and leading her back to the truck.

"Do you want me to drive a little?" Clary asked as they got to the truck. Jace was yawning heavily during their little stop and Clary knew he needed some rest, "You can use my pillow," she cooed, trying to entice him into taking a break.

"Okay," he smiled, "Just follow the GPS. We have another 50 or so miles of straight highway before we reach Kentucky anyway," he said, heading for the passenger seat as he tossed her the keys. She caught them easily and jumped up into the driver's seat, adjusting the seat so her short legs could reach the pedals, prompting chuckles from Jace.

"Listen, you mammoth of a boy, I am too short, in case you haven't noticed for…this," she gestured to the entire space the driver inhabited.

"I didn't say anything,' he chuckled as she pulled out of the parking lot.

"You were thinking things," she muttered, turning onto the highway. Jace sat back and allowed the motion of the car over the pavement to lull him into a near sleep state. Then Clary began to sing. When they began driving, she had turned the radio on low enough to allow Jace to sleep, but loud enough for her to hear. He hadn't been paying attention until he began to hear her sweet voice. She started off humming, then the warm hums began to turn into fully-formed words. He finally drifted off to sleep by the third or fourth song, dreaming sweet dreams of the sweet girl beside him.

When Jace awoke, it was because the car had stopped and Clary was lightly nudging him.

"We only have about an hour or so left," she told him. For the first time, she wasn't all smiles. She was simply looking ahead, her hands rested firmly on the steering wheel, shoulders tense, "I thought you may want to stop for lunch,"

Jace looked out his window to see she was stopped outside of a quaint diner, the sun was high in the sky and the window was warm under his fingertips.

"Sounds good," he replied, unbuckling his seatbelt as she did the same, finally offering him a soft smile before getting out of the car. They met at the door, where Jace took hold of her elbows, halting any progression into the restaurant.

She looked up at him with a question in her eyes.

"I know you're nervous," he whispered, she simply kept staring at him, her gaze expectant, "But I'll be with you the entire time, every second. You won't be alone if you don't want to," he told her honestly.

"Even in the shower?" she smirked.

"If you want me there, I'm so there babe," he joked, without really kidding, before pulling her into a hug. She chuckled into his chest as she curled into him.

"I just want to get the initial meeting over with," she sighed, resting her chin on his chest so she could look up and into his eyes.

"I get it," he replied, stroking a hand up and down her back, earning shivers of approval. She didn't need the reassuring words that everything would be peachy, because they both knew it wouldn't be true. She appreciated his comforting action more, the way he simply understood.

"Thank you, for everything," she sighed into his shirt. For the first time, she felt like a carefree teenager, simply standing outside a diner with a boy she may be dating, who always knew when she needed a hug.

"You're welcome," he replied, "It's you and me," then he pulled back, placed a tender kiss on her forehead before slipping his hand down into hers. They had never really held hands before, but she didn't mind. He led them inside and as they were lead to a booth she muttered back, "You and me"

Page Break

They had only ordered their meal when Clary's phone began to buzz in the front pocket of her sweatshirt, the device vibrating against her stomach, making her jump. Jace looked up from the desert menu with a smile before shaking his head and returning his gaze to the laminated paper.

Clary retrieved her phone just as it buzzed for the third time. She looked at the caller I.D. to see it was her brother, Jonathan. She answered the call.

"Clary!" he called into the phone, "How's it going?" he inquired. She rolled her eyes, knowing he was really just making sure she hadn't gone into hiding instead of been on her way to his wedding.

"Good, we just stopped for lunch and should be there in about three hours," she saw Jace look up at that, wondering what the large delay was but she simply shook her head.

"That sounds great! You guys will make it to the rehearsal dinner," Jon exclaimed. Clary heard the closing of a door and a sudden onslaught of voices as they called to Jon and he quickly replied back, "Sorry. That was mom and Aunt Maryse. Izzy and Alec just flew in from fashion week in Milan," he told her.

Alec and Isabelle Lightwood were Clary's closest and most favorite cousins, or at least she hoped they still were after not seeing them for months on end. She occasionally skyped or called with them, but it did not hold a candle to the fifteen years in which they had been inseparable. The duo were also doing well for themselves, and were lucky to have their parent's support in their endeavors, unlike Clary. Isabelle was a famous model and Alec was a photographer, who happened to always to his kid sister's shoots. They were a force to be reckoned with.

"I'm glad they're there," Clary smiled genuinely, "I have to go, but we'll talk soon," Clary finished the call and sat back in her seat.

"What was all that about?" Jace asked. Before Clary could answer, a waitress came over and took their order. Clary ordered chicken and waffles with a coffee while Jace went for a burger with onion rings. When they were once again alone, she answered.

"My brother's rehearsal dinner is tonight and that means my entire family is going to be there when we arrive, including my crazy cousins," she sighed.

"Oh," was all Jace said in response. He didn't know what it was like to have a big family, or a family at all. He didn't have crazy cousins or annoying siblings. He had Magnus and the other guys, and now he had Clary.

"So, I was hoping we could stop off at our hotel first, get ready then head over," she told him, looking pointedly at her sweatshirt and paint splattered jeans that were just a little baggy.

"Sounds good," Jace smiled, reaching across the table to take Clary's hand, twinging their fingers together, "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course,"

"Does your family know that you're bringing me," he asked. He wasn't sure what to expect when he walked in their by Clary's side.

"My brother does, which means everyone does," she chuckled fondly, looking down at Jace's fingers as she played with them, "but they don't know who you are, what you look like, how we met," at that she looked up, locking her eyes with him.

"Oooo, mysterious," he whispered lowly, "What do you want to tell them?" he asked.

"I don't want to lie, because I'm not ashamed of you or what you do," she began, "But I know they won't like it," she said.

"Then we can tell them a half truth," he told her. She looked up confusedly so he continued, "We met at Taki's and since we were both eating alone, I came along and sat with you and that was it. The rest is, as they say, history," he smiled.

Clary's eyes glinted as she laughed lightly, "And since we are speaking half-truths, should we say that you're just my friend too," her gaze held mischief as she said it, making Jace bite his lip. She was just too damn cute.

"I was hoping for the other end of the spectrum," he said seriously, looking down at the table where their still-bound hands lay. He chanced a glance upward and saw her with a slight blush splashed across her cheeks.

"Like…we're dating?" she inquired.

"Well, we do care for each other, and you told me yourself that we aren't friends," he began before taking a deep breath. This certainly wasn't how he planned for this conversation to go, "Clary, will you be my girlfriend, whole truth?" he asked. When he looked up at her, he saw the wide eyes and open mouth. One of her hands came up to cover her lips before it dropped and she was suddenly out of her seat.

For a moment he thought she would leave. Storm out and leave him stranded in that little diner in the middle of nowhere. Then she came around the booth and sat right beside him. They thighs were pressed together and their faces were only a breath away.

"Yes, whole truth" she whispered before pressing her lips to his own unprepared ones. Before she changed her mind, he wrapped his arms around her, one hand coming up to the base of her neck to hold her close, even if she hadn't planned on moving anytime soon.

Their lips locked and they tongues clashed as they finally realized, within their own minds, just how long they've wanted this. To not walk on eggshells about their not so platonic friendship. She was his and he was hers, not matter what… and now he was meeting her entire family.

They pulled away slowly, Clary giggling happily as she rested her face into the crook of his neck. Jace's arm remained around her shoulders and her small reached up to grasp his hanging one.

"I've never had a boyfriend before," she chuckled, seeming to not realize she had said it. Jace looked down in shock.

"Never?" he asked. She looked up and shook her head.

"You're the first," she replied.

 _And the last_ , he hoped in his mind, startling himself, before he relaxed into the idea of Clary being his. He never before understood why people would think like that, of someone being there's until he met Clary. It wasn't possessive like he first thought. It simply means they had willingly devoted all they have to what you two are trying to build, and you have done the same. It truly was a beautiful thing.

That's what prompted him to lean down and whisper in her ear, "My Clary," as he nuzzled in behind her ear, making her sigh.

"My Jace," she whispered into his neck. They sat for a few moments, completely absorbed in the other until their food came. Though Jace let his arm fall from her shoulders, they never lost a point of contact. Their thighs and hips were still plastered together, and as Clary set to work on dressing her waffles with butter and syrup, Jace's hand slid down to rest on her thigh.

He was only slightly above the knee, his thumb brushing over it, but he still found himself to be extremely nervous. At least until he saw the grin that his touch brought to Clary's face. In response, she lightly reached down and gave his knee a squeeze before returning to her food, needing her right hand to cut the thick doughy waffles.

They ate in comfortable silence, only occasionally speaking about their hotel and the upcoming week.

"The hotel is pretty nice," Clary told him, "I know Jon with be upset we aren't staying in the house, but I couldn't trust myself to live their again for even a week,"

"Why don't you just try one night? Maybe it won't be so bad," Jace replied, rubbing soothing circles with his pointer finger as he ate his onion rings.

"Hmm, maybe," she seemed to really think about it before nodding a little to herself.

"So, any sights I should see while we're there?" Jace finally asked.

"Let's see, we can go to the park, the lake. Oh! And the museum, my first real painting is still hanging up from what Jon tells me," she says excitedly, having polished off her meal, as Jace had done.

"Sounds perfect," he replied. They talked a little more as they paid the tab. Clary seemed reluctant to get back in the truck, preferring to lean against the hood as the sun beamed down on her.

"It's getting hot," she observed, reaching for the hem of the sweatshirt. Before Jace could move, she had whipped it off and was in a white tank top, folding the heavy article of clothing over her arm," That's better," she mutters to herself before leaning back against the hood.

"You are," Jace chuckles at his corny joke before coming to stand right in front of her.

"That's really cute," she replies dryly, but he notices the small grin tugging at her lips when he rests his large hands over her hips.

"Is there anything I should know before we get there?" he inquires, unsure what to really expect from Clary's extended family. He'd been briefed on her brother's exuberance and her father's protective nature, as well as just how all around prickly her mother can be.

Clary's eyes seem to dart nervously in her head, but she soon looks up at him and slyly smiles, "My grandma had a rifle, and she loves showing it off to newcomers," Jace's Adams apple bobs in his throat, causing a round of chuckles to escape his girlfriend.

"Don't worry," she smiles, coiling her arms around his neck, "I'll protect you from my 86 year old grandma,"

"I'm not worried," he tries to amend, but smiles, relishing the way her skin feels against his, "We should get going,"

With that, they were on track to arrive by sun down. They had no idea what would be in store for them when they arrived at Clary's childhood home, but one thing was for certain, it wouldn't all be sunshine and rainbows.

AN: Next chapter we meet the family!


	10. Chapter 10

The duo arrived in a small town. The roads were dirt that billowed up in clouds as you drove past, no matter how slow you went. The shops were quaint and family owned. The homes were vintage, but well-kept with green lawns and colorful flowers to adorn the pathways to the front doors.

As Jace drove, Clary pointed out homes where friends had lived, or where the best parties had been held. She pointed out where she and her cousins would hang out, and where Jon had been caught doing the most unsaintly of things. She'd always chuckle and get a misty look in her eyes, as if she could see those young children again, with simple lives and childish dreams.

They drove through the town and Jace noticed as the houses grew larger, their lawns more manicured, the architecture more regal. Clary told him to turn left. They drove for what seemed like forever, the car shaded by huge trees lining the road. They came up to a Victorian looking home ** _. (AN: Think of Forest Gump's house)_**

"This is it," Clary told him. Only then did Jace notice the freshly painted sign swinging in the slight breeze, declaring the building to be a bed and breakfast.

"That's all they really have around here," she explained as she hopped down from the passenger seat.

"It's perfect," he smiled as he went around to meet her in front of the trunk. Before she could even reach up to get her luggage, Jace had taken hers in one hand and his in the other.

"Show off," she chuckled, pushing him slightly in the torso.

"Just grab the door, sweetheart," Jace cooed. Clary jogged ahead of him, opening the front door as he ambled up behind her, sweeping into the entryway. There was a large staircase leading up to what he assumed to be bedrooms. Clary gestured for him to follow her as she walked down a short hallway, light filtering in from the windows lining the left side.

They ended in a brightly lit den, the outer walls littered with plush couches and dainty side tables. They were greeted by a sweet looking older woman, her gray hair in a bun at the nape of her neck with wispy hairs falling around her heart shaped face.

"Oh, Clary dear!" she called as she dropped her feather duster and rushed over to hug Clary. She didn't just hug her either. Her arms coiled tightly and she rocked the petite girl from side to side, prompting Jace to chuckle. When the woman released Clary, the ginger girl whipped around and glared at him. That's when the woman noticed Jace standing in the doorway, "Sweetheart! Come in, relax!" she exclaimed as she went up and began squeezing at Jace's cheeks, "Any friend of Clary's is a friend of mine,"

"I've missed you Imogen," Clary chuckled, coming up to place hand on the woman's shoulder.

"Oh, when your mother told me you were coming, I was so excited. Isn't nice your brother is getting married, and to such a nice girl too," then she turned back to Jace, "he was quite the heartbreaker you know," then she seemed to consider Jace's presence, "You must be special if our Clary brought you home,"

"OKAY, Imogen," Clary cut in, her cheeks stained red, "we really have to get ready for the rehearsal dinner tonight," she told the woman, Imogen, "You'll be there, right?"

"Of course, of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world" she smiles. She digs a softly wrinkled hand into her apron pocket and produces a small silver key, "You're the first room on the right, straight up the stairs," she smiles, pressing the key into Clary's palm.

"I'm Jace by the way, it was a pleasure to meet you," Jace gently takes Imogen's hand and places a kiss to her knuckles.

"Oh, dear, you're such a ham," she patted his cheek and then dropped a wink to Clary before returning to what she'd been doing before they arrived.

As they trekked up the stairs, Clary giggled.

"What?" Jace smiled a little confused, unsure what was so funny.

"You're just adorable," she chuckled, "a real ham," then she had to stifle her round of laughter in her hand.

"You're just jealous because you're not a ham," Jace chuckled as he set their luggage down just inside the door of their room.

"Actually, I'm a peach, or a doll, depending on how Imogen felt that day,"

"Well lucky you," Jace muttered, "Who is she anyway?"

"Just a family friend, she went to school with my grandparents," she told him as she kicked off her shoes and began rummaging in her suitcase. Jace did as well, searching for a suitable outfit for the rehearsal dinner, hoping nothing had gotten too wrinkled in his suitcase.

When he heard a frustrated grunt from Clary, he turned around to see her in only her tank top and underwear, glaring down at two articles of clothing, one in each fist.

"What's wrong babe?" he asked, coming to stand in front of her.

"Casual or fancy?" she asked, holding up on fist full of fabric for each option.

"I don't know, fancy I guess," Jace shrugged, unsure how to help with such minimal information.

"I'm just really nervous," Clary sunk down on the edge of the bed and stared at the clothes in her hands.

"I know," Jace whispered, "I think the real question is, how do you want your family to see you after so long?" he asked her. With a moment of speculation, a smile grew on her face. Clary turned and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"You're a genius, thank you," then she rushed over to her suitcase, throwing both options down as she yanked another free. The dark blue caught Jace's eye, but that's all he could see before she was sliding past him, "I'll be ready in a minute," she then disappeared into the bathroom. Jace simply shook his head and began looking through his own case, a slight smile reaching his lips as his cheeks tingled.

 **Clary**

It was perfect. I hadn't been sure if this dress would see the light of day on this trip, but now I was glad I packed it. It was royal blue, the top flowing. It had a slit down the back which showed creamy white skin if I moved just right while the front dipped down in a v. Unlike the top, the bottom cinched at my waist and hugged my hips and legs all the way down to just above my knee.

Satisfied with the perfect dress, I decided to set my hair in hot rollers, imagining the large soft curls the rollers could produce. With my hair set, I walked out of the bathroom. I was met with a confused looking Jace in only his boxers.

When I emerged, he looked up and smiled, his eyes scanning my frame.

"Are you sure you've never had a boyfriend?" he chuckled, coming up to wrap his arms around my waist. When his pinky dips into the slit at my back, he raises an eyebrow before sliding his hand gingerly under the fabric, his touch warm to my cool skin, causing me to shiver.

"Only you," I whisper, wrapping my arms around his neck. He nuzzles his nose into my neck and sighs.

"I miss your hair," he whispers, causing me to laugh.

"I still have hair, you know,"

"I do, but I miss feeling it down," he moans, stepping back. He offers a cheeky grin before bopping me on the nose. He goes back to looking at the selections he laid out on the bed, occasionally looking back to me.

"Decision made," he finally declared.

"Congratulations," I chuckle, walking away to grab my makeup bag. I settle in at the small vanity in the corner of the room, deciding how to do my makeup. I go with simple liner and a deep red lip. Turning back to Jace, I see him dressed, sliding on his socks and shoes. He looks good in beige dress pants and a light blue dress shirt that offsets his golden skin and the hair that falls against the collar.

He looks up as he ties his shoe and smiles, "You look beautiful," he tells me. I simply smile back and turn around. I see him continue to stare at me through the mirror. I meet his eyes.

"You look very handsome," he beams at my words, "My aunts will be all over you," I chuckle, feeling if my rollers have cooled enough for me to take them out.

"Well, all Jon's friends will surely be after the hot New York artist, regardless if you're their friends kid sister," Jace retorts, his eyes sparking.

"Lord, I hope not," I groan. Last I checked, the single ones were the worst our town had to offer, hence why they were still very, irrevocably single.

I uncoil the rollers from my hair, satisfied with the soft, bouncy curls they form. I simple fluff them up then go in search for shoes to match. I settle on a pair of nude shoes I brought, slipping them onto my feet.

"Ready?" I ask Jace, whose laying on the bed, him phone held in his hands.

"Yeah," he replies, turning of the device, "My friend just texted to say everything was well at my apartment," I nod and look around for my own phone. When I find it, I realize the absence of pockets, so I walk up to Jace and slid it into his back pocket.

"At least take me out to dinner first," he mutters into my neck before I can pull away.

"Will a kiss suffice?" I question, tapping my finger to my chin. He catches my hand and looks down at the turpentine toughened, paint splattered fingers, smiling fondly.

"What have you been painting lately that has so much gold?" he inquires, looking up with a challenging grin.

"A super-hot guy from back home," I reply coolly, coiling my arms around his neck.

"Hmm," he hums, placing his hands over my hips. In these shoes, we are nearly nose to nose, "He must be pretty special if you want to paint him,"

"Oh, he is," I place a warm kiss to his waiting lips. It stays calm and comforting, any residual anxiety from earlier today dripping away, at least for a blissful moment.

"I don't want to be late," he finally groans, pulling away. He grabs his car keys and wallet from the small table beside the door before holding his hand out for my own.

I take it and he leads me out the room, which I lock just in case Imogen has any other borders tonight. We descend the stairs together in a comfortable silence, until we are met with an empty landing. Taped to the front door, there's a small note. I notice Imogen's loopy cursive and pluck the note from the door.

 _Didn't want to rush you, but I had to go help set up for tonight. I will see my peach and ham tonight. - Imogen_

Jace, who had been reading over my shoulder chuckles, "I guess you're a peach today,"

"I guess so," with that, we leave the little bed and breakfast, heading towards Jace's truck that has never looked more in its element. We hop in, the action much easier in such tall shoes, and buckle our seatbelts. Jace reaches out once more for my hand as he starts the engine.

"Ready?" he asks as the ac blows across his face, ruffling his hair slightly.

"As I'll ever be,"

 **Jace**

Clary had never told me she was rich.

Or rather her parents were rich. 

We had driven for about ten minutes when we came across a full on estate. I had nearly driven right past it when Clary told me to turn. A sign adorned the front walkway.

 _Fairchild-Morgenstern Plantation Est.1882_

I tried to keep my face impassive as we drove down the mile long driveway lined in weeping willows. I didn't dare utter a word until I felt Clary's eyes burning a hole into my cheek. I chanced a glance over to see her worrying her lip between her teeth. I untangle out fingers and softly reach up, freeing the flesh with my thumb.

"I like all the trees, I've never seen anything like this in New York," I offer a reassuring smile. I hear her soft sigh and then she begins to speak.

"My family is from old money. My great great great grandfather ran a cotton plantation and owned a few stores in the town, selling cloth and things like that. The Fairchilds and Morgensterns have been marrying each other for generations," she recited the information with such detachment It was as if she was giving a history lesson, rather than speaking of her own blood.

"So what are you doing with me?" I attempt to joke, but my mind does nag at me, wondering where she came up with the surname Fray. I pull into what appears to be an entire parking lot, finding a spot in the shade of the trees. I kill the engine and look over to Clary. She has a sad look on her face.

"I would have married a Fairchild, if I hadn't left," then she's out of the car, leaving me speechless.

I scramble out as well, grasping for any bit of composure to craft a disarming response.

"Well," I begin as I saddle up beside her. I offer her my arm, which she takes, "I'm glad you left then," She smiles warmly at me before looking back up to the mansion looming up before us. Music is pouring from inside as well as laughter and what I assume would be well wishes. Clary takes a deep breath then begins walking forward.

There's no going back now.

 **Third Person**

The duo stepped up to the front door and Clary paused. No normal person knocks on the front door of their home. But this wasn't really her home anymore, was it? Just as the battle warred on in her mind, her fist hovering over the cherry wood, the door swung open and she was being pulled away from Jace and into a warm chest.

"You really came," the chest rumbled and Clary hugged back, knowing it was Jonathan, the brother she had left behind. The brother she hadn't seen in years. The brother she'd nearly forgotten what he looked like.

"Of course I did," she mumbled back, pulling back slightly to look up into his face, attempting to rememorize every dip and plane. Every shade of skin and eye and lip in the fading sunlight.

She turned her head when she noticed something behind her had caught her brother's attention. Jace stood there slightly awkward, a muscle twitching in his jaw as Clary stood in the mystery man's arms. Clary found it rather comical.

So she laughed and laughed as she pulled further away and took a hold of Jace's forearm, pulling him with her into the door's threshold.

"Jace, this is Jon, my big brother," she motioned to the white blond man who offered a wave and grin, "Jon, this is Jace…my boyfriend," she smiled up at him as she said the novice word. He smiled back down at her, one arm looping around her waist, causing their hips to kiss. His other hand reached out and took Jon's outstretched one.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, congratulations on your engagement," Jace said benevolently, his signature grin adorning his features.

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine," he grinned impishly, "I've never been able to fulfill my brotherly duties of sharing all of Clarissa's most embarrassing anecdotes with her boyfriend before. Do know I have been looking forward to this day her whole life," Jace chuckles along with Jon's antics.

"Well, where's my future sister in law?" Clary muses, looking around the entry way that devoid of any other people.

"Attempting to survive mom, aunt Maryse and Isabelle all at once," Jon smiled.

"Ooo, and you left her," Clary winced, "That's stone cold big brother, stone cold,"

"She'll survive," he waved his hand fillapently, "You always did,"

"Barely," Clary muttered, "Where's dad then?"

"Out back, seeking quite," Jon jerks his head to the back door. Clary nods and looks up at Jace before smiling. Jace offers a smile of his own, though he does feel a sense of worry well into his stomach.

"I think I'll go say hi to him," Clary tells her brother, tugging Jace along.

They're able to evade any other family members on their trek to the back door. They are greeted by the sunset and rapidly cooling evening air. Clary could see the shed's light on and she knew where her father was. Where he always was when the entire family got together.

"Do you think he'll like me?" Jace suddenly asks, his feet halting nay progress to the shed. His eyes dart nervously in his head as Clary looks back at him.

Placing a hand to his cheek, she rubs soothing circles over his cheekbone, "I have no doubt in my mind he will love you," she whispers, placing a chaste kiss to his lips. It does the trick, loosening his tense muscles. When he seems ready to go, Clary continues their walk down the cobblestone path, conscious not to trick over the uneven pavement.

Coming to the shed's door, she knocks lightly.

"I'll be in soon Jocelyn," a voice calls tiredly.

"It's me dad, Clary," she calls back. They hardly hear a sound before the door is swinging open and Clary is pulled into yet another man's chest, the arms far thicker and broader than her brother's, but no less comforting.

"Oh, my sweet girl," he mutters as he kisses the crown of her head, "You've finally come back," he smiles, patting her back. He holds her by her shoulders at arm's length, "You look beautiful, sweetheart, just like your mother," he beams. Then his eyes notice a shadow beside his daughter's and his own and looks up to meet its owner.

"It's a pleasure to meet you sir, I'm Jace Wayland," he offers his hand, which the older man takes. His handshake is firm, but Jace holds his own, offering a warm grin.

"I'm valentine Morgenstern, and I have killed a man with this very hand," His face is a blank slate and Jace internally flinches as Clary gasps.

"Dad!" she exclaims, looking apologetically at Jace before glaring up at her father, "He's only kidding,"

"You know, I did have a life before I was married," he mused.

"But you never killed anyone," she hisses.

"I suppose you're right," he agrees, "I let your mother do it for me," this time he smiles back before beginning to laugh. It's a warm sound that seems to rumble up from his very soul, "I'm only joking of course, It's nice to meet you Jace," He releases the boy's hand and looks to his daughter.

"I assume this is the boyfriend your brother had been blabbering about," Valentine inquires.

She nods her head before muttering, "I never said he was my boyfriend,"

"Oh really, because Jon just sent a message in the rehearsal dinner group message. The entire family is hunting you down right now," Valentine fishes his phone from his pocket and shows it to his daughter.

 _Jon- CLARY'S HERE! I REPEAT, CLARY'S HERE! AND SHE HAS A BOYFRIEND_

"Wonderful," she sighs, handing the phone to Jace who only chuckles before returning it to Valentine.

"You can hide in here with me, but only for so long," Valentine offers.

"No, we might as well go face the music," Clary rolls her eyes smiling.

"I'll see you both at dinner then," Valentine smiles at his daughter and claps Jace on his shoulder. Jace nods and as Clary is about to turn to walk back to the house, Valentine stops her. Her stoops down to whisper for only her to hear.

"I like this boy, I don't know what it is, but there's something I see in him I like," he tells her, glancing at the patiently waiting man on the path.

"I'm glad, because I really like him too," then she rejoins Jace to go face the rest of her family.

 **Clary**

It was naïve of me to think we could make it five steps into the house before being swarmed. I had never realized just how much like wild animals the women of my family were.

Between to huge hugs and sticky kisses and platters of food being shoved in our faces, Jace and I left the circle looking a little more than disheveled. I was attempting to swipe red lips from Jace's cheek as he simply stands patiently. I can see the laughter in his eyes, which makes me laugh right along. I think he secretly loved all the women swooning over him. A voice is suddenly cleared behind me.

I turn and Jace simply looks over my shoulder. Standing there, looking as much like southern royalty as she always has is my mother.

"Oh Clarissa," her voice is a breath as soft and comforting as a light spring breeze, "How I've missed you," she comes closer and pulls me into her chest. But unlike my brother or father, it's almost in a protective manner, all softness and warmth. She smells sweeter, as if she's just run through fields of honey and wildflowers. I can almost believe we care so deeply for each other. That this isn't all a front for the prying eyes. But I let her act, for now.

"Mother," I say simply, pulling away after a few moments, retreating to stand beside Jace, who immediately places an arm around my waist, dropping a kiss to my temple. "This is Jace, my boyfriend," I introduce.

Her eyes drift lazily to the golden young man beside me, letting them drift over his body in an unimpressed fashion. I feel him starting to go restless under her scrutiny. Then she breaks out in a grin, clapping her hands together. "Ah, this is the boy your brother was speaking about," she throws a grin at Jace before extending her hand.

"I'm Jocelyn Fairchild-Morgenstern," she says. Jace takes her hand in his own softly and drops a kiss to her knuckles as he did with Imogen.

"A pleasure to finally meet you, your home is lovely, as is your family that I've had the honor to meet," He flashes a dazzling grin and I find myself suddenly remembering. Jace does this for a living. Meets the family and friends. Makes the mothers swoon and grannies blush. And he was damn good at it.

Jocelyn squints her eyes, as if she doesn't trust such a composed man, compared to her own son and his friends whom could only be described as wild.

But, the ever perfect host, all she says is, "Thank you, we should all begin heading into the dining room for dinner" then she sashays off and we both release a breath we had been holding in. We burst into giggles like the children we are.

"Isn't she horrible?" I ask, trying to stifle my laughs in his chest when people begin to stare.

"Oh no," he begins sarcastically, rubbing down my bare back, "She was simply a peach," that only causes me to laugh harder. Deciding we have a little time, I grab onto Jace's hand and lead him to the nearby staircase.

"Would you like to see my childhood room?" I ask, stepping onto the first step so for a fleeting moment I'm taller than Jace. He looks up at me and nods, smiling.

"I would, and it's kind of nice seeing you from this angle," he chuckles as I jab him in the chest, running up the steps. I hear his swift footfalls following me up and down the hard wood hallway. I skid to a halt, causing him to clobber into me. We stumble slightly, but I grab a hold of the door handle in time to steady myself.

"Here it is," I exclaim, throwing the door open. It looks the same as it always has…minus my brother and some girl laying on my bed making out.

I squeal and scramble out, pushing Jace out the room in the process, before slamming the door shut again.

"What? Has that never happened to you before?" he smirks, going to lean against the wall across from my door.

"All the time, but that was when I still lived here. I've lived alone for years, hence no kissing people in my bed," I wave a hand helplessly at my closed door.

"Well, I vote that we wait and simply stare at them when they come out until they look uncomfortable," Jace says coolly, eyes sparkling.

"I second that vote," I reply, crossing my arms like him, mimicking his stance against the wall. As we wait, he bumps my hip with his own. My head snaps over to look at him, but his face is simply trained on my door, stone still.

I bump him this time and see the faintest of grins reach his lips. When he bumps me again, I go flying, and Jace roars with laughter as I steady myself against the wall. I push him as hard as I can. I'm thoroughly satisfied when he stumbles a few steps away.

"Truce," he holds up his hands before holding one out to shake.

"Truce," I parrot, placing my hand in his. He uses it to pull me closer, and begins kissing from my knuckles up my palm to my wrist where he nibbles softly. Suddenly the door opens and our heads snap up.

A rather red cheeked girl walks out, trying to hide behind my brother's hulking figure. All I can see are her chestnut curls and the long fingered hand in my brother's.

"Hold on," I place a hand on my brother's chest, halting any progression. He doesn't meet my eyes, "Is this your fiancée?" I ask.

"Obviously," he rolls his eyes.

"Well, it's not like I've even seen a picture or anything," with a huff, I shove my brother to the side so I'm standing face to face with the girl. She doesn't meet my eye either and she seems nervous, or scared. Like a little bird. Not Jon's usual type.

I feel the need to take that look from her face, so I crack a smile before speaking, "Is my brother as bad of a kisser as I've heard?" I snicker, earning an indignant gasp from Jon.

The girl's head snaps up and I'm met with twinkling hazel eyes, "Worse," she grins. She's pretty when she smiles.

I link my arm with hers as begin walking towards the staircase, "I'm not surprised. I got all the talent of the family," I toss a wink back at the boys when I hear Jace mutter an agreement.

"I'm Scarlett by the way, you must be Clary. Jon talks about you a lot," she says it so softly I almost don't hear her.

"It's nice to meet you, Angel bless you for dealing with my brother," I chuckle. She laughs along with me, a light honeyed sound that brings new life to her features.

"I love that bonehead," she says wistfully before flashing me an impish grin. I'm going to like this girl.

"Me too," I reply.


End file.
